The Fate of a Prince
by Lady Myra
Summary: Richard the Lionheart is off for the crusades leaving his brother Prince John as regent, and his brother Robert, the future Robin Hood, in charge of the royal seal. What happens when John and Robert clash and are left to themselves? Find out!
1. Chapter 1

King Richard the Lionheart stood up and the room about him hushed.

"On this proud day in history I would like to announce my intention to reclaim the holy lands," he began. His statement was met with applause, though some of his councilmen looked decidedly unhappy about having their king going off to battle miles from home. "For too long have we allowed heathens to control a major area that should be made clean and peaceable for Christian pilgrims everywhere." More applause; Richard held up his hand. "This being the case I would like to assure you that all pains are being made to insure that my top priority is being taken care of here at home," he paused, "Which of course is you, my people." He smiled at the enthusiasm that met this statement. Yet even as he waited for the court to fall silent again he couldn't help wondering if he was making a mistake. He looked over at his brother, who was sitting on an ornate chair at his right hand. Was he ready? It was impossible to be sure, for John's face was unreadable behind a regal facade, as if he didn't know what was about to be granted to him. Richard sighed, but what else could he do? The crusades were something he had wanted to pursue since he was a tiny boy. But now that the time had come to do so, he hesitated, something Richard had never done before.

He blinked, looking out on the noblemen before him, who were waiting on his every word. Praying to God that this was for the best, he continued.

"I would like to name my brother, John, regent in my place until the time of my return." Richard beckoned for his brother to stand, and there was more, less enthusiastic applause. Richard held his breath; he could not under any means leave if John's authority was not as universally accepted as his own. If it was challenged while he was away he might come home to no throne at all. Yet just as Richard was about to despair his knights took up the chant,

"Long live the King! Long live Prince John!" and soon it was impossible to hear himself think over all the praise. He let out a long sigh of relief. Perhaps he was meant to go on the crusades after all.

As the press of noblemen towards the dais grew stronger Richard glanced over his shoulder to see how John was taking the news. He was smiling and had the look of king about him, his passive look gone. Richard leaned over to shake John's hand, and then enveloped John in a brotherly embrace.

Richard didn't seem to notice that the warmth was not returned.

"Your majesty," pressed John, pulling away from his brother and dropping instead to a courtier's bow.

Richard sighed internally; wishing that court etiquette was not so cold. He nodded to his brother and then to the court, which took up the cheering again. Then the brothers, John following in Richard's wake, left the hall to a fanfare of trumpets that brought the noise level in the hall to an almost oppressive level.

Richard felt his pace quicken even as he descended, feeling the support of his people like a burden settling around his shoulders. He needed air, and quickly.

"Oh, pardon me, my lady!" Richard amended as he collided with one of his courtiers in his haste.

She bowed low, but whatever she said was swept away with the noise. Striking girl, Richard thought as she disappeared, I wonder what her name is.


	2. Chapter 2

"Allow me to apologize for my brother," came a voice from behind Marian. She turned and found herself face to face with none other than Prince John. "Sometimes he is loath to forget the finer details of propriety when under pressure like this." If this hadn't been coming from the prince himself, Marian would have thought it to be mockery.

"No, your majesty, the trouble is all mine. I am known to be less than graceful from time to time." She dropped a curtsey, hiding her blushing face behind waves of red curls. Why was he troubling her, and why did he give her such a feeling of unease?

She chanced a glance from behind her hair, noting the cold and calculating look that had spread across his face. It was not the feeling that had been there a moment ago, nor was it the glance of the worthy, caring ruler upon the dais.

"Your majesty?" she inquired. He paused and then a smile slowly spread across his face. She fought to suppress a shiver—it was his smile she disliked most of all.

He took her by the arm and raised her up.

"You need never to curtsey for me lady, the pleasure is mine. Come, let me treat you to a drink or two. Or may I escort you to a seat?"

Marian did not want to be with him any longer than she could possibly help.

"I am not thirsty, nor tired."

"A dance then? I can send for my minstrel."

"Pardon me, majesty, but I would most likely step on your feet." He smiled at her, his smirk turning into a genuine grin.

"You shame yourself lady, no woman of your standing or beauty could possibly injure me with their tiny feet…No dancing then. A stroll?"

"I thank you for your _extreme_ generosity, your grace, but I am not feeling well. Forgive me, but I must beg to return to my father's quarters." She dipped her head.

"Of course, my lady, I would not dream of detaining you if you are feeling ill. Here, let me see you from the hall. It is the least I can do." His touch was a light pressure under her arm. She could not refuse.

With a charming smile on his face and a smirk in his eyes he led her from the room, with the whole court cheering. Marian felt she should be honored to be seen upon the prince's arm, but instead the feeling that settled around her heart was more akin to something else. It felt more like dread.

They entered the semi-darkness of the hallway at a leisurely pace, the prince forcing her stride to match his.

"You bestow upon me a great honor, but I must go, your majesty." Marian apologized and tried remove her arm from his, but he only grasped it tighter.

"My lady, do not make me part from you so soon. Please, honor _me_ with your presence just a while longer." His voice was charming but his eyes were dark. Did she dare refuse a prince?

Her head swam in search for an answer…but then her head swimming _was_ the answer. Holding her breath and allowing her knees to buckle, her vision clouded over as she lost consciousness to the forced faint.

Next thing she knew her ears were ringing smartly as his hand connected with her cheek—SLAP! She bit her lip and drew blood.

They were in another, darker corridor. There were some windows at either side of the hall, but all she could see was the sunlight flooding in. Nothing in the passageway was lending itself to memory. Marian didn't know where she was at all.

"Now you listen to me, _my lady_. I am Prince John, and I will not be refused. I tried very kindly to court you there in the hall, but you would have none of it. I will not play games anymore and _you_ will not play games with me. Is that clear?"

His grasp on her jawbone was bruising; she couldn't even respond. Forcing her to look him in the face, John read the fear in her eyes. He smiled and pressed her into a standing position against the cold stone wall.

"Oblige me, will you, my lady?" he crooned coldly, and then he bent and hungrily pressed his face to hers.

Inside Marian began to scream.

"John?" another man's voice echoed down the hall, piercing her terror.


	3. Chapter 3

Robert was on his way to the stables, deep in thought. His brother, King Richard, was leaving soon and Robert wasn't sure how he was going to cope without him. Being in court was fine and all but Richard's presence above anything else was what kept Robert sane.

Leaving the hall after Richard's speech, it had occurred to Robert how much he _didn't_ want to be approached by anyone at all today. Inside the crowd had been massive, and only now after having fled the main ways for a servant's corridor could Robert even begin to hear himself think again. He longed to hear Richard's jokes about who Lord so-and-so was kissing up to now, or which maiden had the uglier dress. Yet even despite his hopes, Robert knew he would soon have to do without and the knowledge was a painful burden he would rather battle out alone, and on horseback.

So deep was Robert in thought, in fact, that he didn't even realize he was not alone until he was almost upon them.

It was a man and a woman, that much was obvious from their silhouettes in the dim light. Robert bent his head, it was bad enough for servants here with all the people to wait upon, they didn't need him interrupting them too. He moved to turn away, but then a glint of gold caught is eye, it was a heavy ring on the hand of the man.

Now stealing…this was something Robert could never permit. When it came to servants, he was usually willing to give the benefit of the doubt, and whatever men fell under his care were rarely given reason to complain of ill use. He took pride that when they came to lead in his horse or stand and wait upon him in the hall that they were all nicely dressed, all well fed, and all clean. Yet if they gave Robert any reason to question their reliability…well that was something that Robert considered a personal offense. Perhaps these servants weren't his, but they were in the castle, and if it was Richard that was in charge of the kingdom, well it was Robert and Richard's councilmen that gave thought to everything else.

Robert came closer, hand on the sword at his side. It was very rare that he was given excuse to use it inside the castle besides in the practice rings, but even so it was always good to have a little steal to add as extra persuasion. Especially with a thief.

He was just about to open his mouth and apprehend the man when a shaft of light came in through one of the windows and filled the passage with light. And in that moment Robert knew who the man was precisely. His mouth fell open in surprise.

"John?"

John pulled away, wiping sweat from his face and fixing Robert with a deadly glare. The woman collapsed as he stepped away, her face pale and bruised. Her clothes were in all states of disarray.

"What have you been…?" Robert started, but John did not wait for him to answer. He drew a small knife from his sleeve and held it to Robert's neck.

"Do not question me, whelp," he said and then rushed off past him retreating the way Robert had come.

A few seconds later there came the sound of a door being thrown shut, and then there was silence.

Robert knelt beside the woman,

"Are you all right, my lady?" he questioned. At first he had hoped that it was only a servant girl that John had cornered, but this fantasy was soon dispelled. Whoever she was, and whatever her clothes had looked like in the beginning, the fabric was too fine to be any servant's garb.

He watched her bite her lip, and the flow of silent tears fall as she defiantly raised her chin to look him in the eyes.

"Do you want to have me too?" she challenged, her green eyes sparkling and her chest heaving with sobs.

"No, my lady, I don't. I am sorry that he did this to you, I really am. Here, take my hand, let me help you up."

She glanced at him sharply. She didn't look like she was going to trust him, and Robert couldn't think of one reason why she should. Instead he thought of another idea, and he began to unclasp his riding cloak from around his shoulders.

"Don't trust me then," Robert stated, "a wise motion. Instead let me offer you this." And he handed her his cloak. It was several sizes to big for her, he imagined, but it would do the job. She let it fall to the floor and didn't touch it. Undaunted Robert continued.

"It should cover up what he did to your clothes," he hesitated, "and face as well. It has a deep hood." She stared at the ground, without so much as humoring him with a reply.

"Do you know your way back from here?" he asked. She hung her head, and for awhile there was more quiet. Finally there came a barely audible reply,

"No." Her voice and manner were much softer than before, and she looked to Robert like a beaten animal. His heart stirred in pity for the woman.

"You're in one of the servant's corridors. This one is very rarely used. If you go back the way I came, it will eventually lead out into the congregating area right outside the hall." He did not tell her where it led. "If you wait another minute or so, the hall will have cleared out and no one will be there to question why you have a cloak on indoors that is not your own." She gave slight nod, hiding her face behind waves of long dark red hair.

"Fare thee well, my lady," and with that he moved to go around the woman and on down the passage. But she grabbed at his boot.

"To whom should I return the cloak?" she asked, her wide eyes staring up at him and her chin thrust out.

"Return it to any of the servants, they will know how best to see it is returned to me." She nodded, fingering the cloak between thumb and forefinger. How helpless she looked! Robert added,

"If it is that you are still in need of help when it comes time for you to return it, you have only to send word. I will get it." And then he turned and rapidly walked away filled with the urgency that came coupled with fear. Now why did he promise her that?

He could never protect her from the wrath of his brother.


End file.
